


Lend Me Your Tongue

by withershins



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Canon Disabled Character, M/M, Making Out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-23
Updated: 2014-10-23
Packaged: 2018-02-22 08:02:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2500541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withershins/pseuds/withershins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by the tumblr prompt "my friend dragged me to this party and i just saw my ex quick make out with me".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lend Me Your Tongue

**Author's Note:**

> prompt [here](http://inthebackoftheimpala.tumblr.com/post/99229600079/cliffnotesofanerd-anifanatical)

There was a reason Charles didn't drag himself to these sort of parties anymore. It was a very good reason, he was sure, even if he couldn't precisely remember what it was right now. Maybe it was that his dissertation was due in three weeks? But no – now that he thought about it, the dissertation was the reason he was here in the first place. That was right: he needed a break, and so here he was. Taking a break. From his dissertation.

Raven might try to claim he was here because of Janos, but Raven was clearly a dirty liar and not to be trusted. Charles didn't use alcohol as a coping method. He most certainly was not here at this party, downing shot after shot, because his boyfriend had broken up with him two weeks ago for being "too fucking busy all the time" and "emotionally distant" – which really translated into Charles spending so much time on his dissertation that he barely had time enough to pee, let alone fuck.

But Charles couldn't blame Janos. He _had_ been withdrawn for a long time now. Oh god he was an awful, selfish person. What kind of lousy bastard didn't even remember his boyfriend's birthday? The dissertation was no excuse. Janos had been tolerant of Charles' shit for far longer than he needed, and now Charles was reaping the consequences of his own bastardly ways.

He downed yet another shot and, with slightly less coordination than usual (it was possible he was the tiniest bit pissed), attempted to navigate his wheelchair through the writhing mass of drunken bodies. He careened wildly – just a little! – into a nearby wall, banging it with one of his wheels. The wall then very helpfully righted him when he almost tumbled from his chair, something he hadn't done for years.

Disgusted with himself and his bastardly-ness, Charles buried his face in the wall's hip. He was the scum of the earth. No wonder Janos had broken up with him.

"You all right?" asked the wall.

"Quiet," Charles hushed. "You're a wall."

The wall – it really was an obliging thing – graciously remained quiet.

Janos was never so obliging. On second thought, _he_ was the bastard here, not Charles. Was it really so much to ask for a little support during the most trying time of his entire academic career? A little understanding? Charles was no superhero. It was all he could do these days to remember how to work the electric kettle; remembering birthdays was a bit beyond his current skill set. He was normally a very good boyfriend! He was! Considerate, charming, birthday-remembering, fantastic in bed if you were in to that sort of thing – just not when he had a dissertation deadline rapidly approaching.

In frustration, Charles slammed the side of his fist into the wall's ribs. It was rather sloppily done, and not very hard at all, because he was beginning to suspect he was more than a little pissed at the moment, but it was satisfying nonetheless. The wall coughed a tiny, "Omph!" but Charles could forgive the noise when he had, after all, just hit it. One could hardly expect a wall to be perfectly silent under such circumstances.

He patted the wall on its hipbone. "Thank you," he said politely, for it had been a very supportive and accommodating wall, then he carefully made his way into the kitchen to hopefully find something to clear his head.

A couple of hours later he emerged again, Darwin's secret sober-up concoction still burning his tongue and his sympathetic words soothing the worst of his chest-hurt. He felt much more clearheaded – unfortunately enough to know that he really couldn't afford to be out partying tonight, no matter how much he may or may not be wallowing over his erstwhile boyfriend. He needed to call a cab and salvage what he could of the night, and hope his hangover tomorrow wasn't too debilitating.

Charles made it outside with some slight assistance from Sean and Hank – the house wasn't exactly what he'd call accessible – and wheeled himself down the walk. A few clumps of people had spilled out onto the grass, smoking and laughing a little too loudly for the late hour, but as there was no one he knew he ignored them and waited by the curb for his cab, enjoying the brisk night air. A trio of already-drunk undergraduates arrived in the back of a shiny red muscle car. A pair of girls, giggling into each other's hair and swapping grinning kisses, left on the back of a motorbike. Charles felt obligated to first ask if they'd been drinking tonight, and before they roared off into the night they promised they'd only had the grape soda.

Charles was just checking the time on his phone when he heard someone clear their throat. He looked up into the face of the most gorgeous man he'd seen all night. Charles kind of wanted to lick his cheekbones and drag his teeth down his jawline and _good lord_ was it truly possible to have so beautiful of forearms? Never mind, Charles actually wanted to lick him all over.

Because he was a civilized person and sober enough to know better, Charles did not lick the stranger all over. Instead, in his most polite tone, he asked, "Yes? Can I help you with something?"

The man's face dropped in heartbreaking disappointment. "You don't remember me," he said.

Charles was racked with instant guilt. "I'm terribly sorry! Have we– have we met before? Surely I would have remembered you!" He did not, fortunately, add that it was because he would hardly have forgotten such lickable cheekbones.

"Have we met?" the man repeated, looking gutted. "You monster, I thought we had something special together."

"No, we didn't! I mean, we didn't have anything! That is, we couldn't have had anything for at least six years, because I was with Janos for a year now, and Emma before that, and before that was the accident and I really wasn't sleeping with anyone at all then! Not that you, um, care about that, but you must see how impossible it would be for me to have slept with you, particularly when I haven't even had time for weeks to sleep with my own boyfriend. Besides, I wouldn't have forgotten about it!"

"I wonder you can even look me in the eye. Do you think I let just anyone pet my hipbone?"

"Of course not! I– wait, what?" Charles squinted, suddenly suspicious. The man's pale eyes laughed down at him. "You're having me on, aren't you?"

"Maybe a little," the man confessed, his smile delightfully sharp. "But you did pet my hipbone. It was magical. We had a moment."

"Pet your…? Of all the–! Oh. Wait." Charles abruptly remembered a rather agreeable encounter he'd had earlier that evening with a hipbone-bearing wall, which, when he considered upon the matter in a slightly less drunk frame of mind, was a very odd thing for a wall to have. "You were the wall."

"So you informed me. I admit I was a bit surprised to learn my whole life has been a lie, but I'm grateful you clued me in. I suspect life will be much more rewarding now I've found my true calling as a wall."

"You're horrible," Charles accused, fighting a grin. "Also, I was very drunk. And you are very firm and wall-like. It's a compliment." He realized he was flirting, badly, and wanted to slap himself. _Dissertation!_ he reminded himself. _Three weeks!_ But it was rather difficult when this stranger was smiling at him so deliciously, looking like he'd like nothing better than to gobble him up with all of his very sharp teeth. Charles wavered.

But then, over the man's shoulder, he caught a glimpse of a familiar dark-haired Adonis climbing out of a cab with a familiar blonde Aphrodite and dropping a smiling kiss to her lips. Janos! The bastard! Kissing someone within Charles' sightline – who, oddly enough, seemed to be Emma. He wasn't aware the two were acquainted.

Not that that was the important bit! It was definitely overshadowed by the fact that Charles was now confronted with the sight of his two most recent exes clearly happily involved with each other, both of whom had coincidentally accused him of not appreciating a good thing when it fell in his lap. It was really much more than he could be expected to bear with grace.

"Quickly," he whispered hurriedly to the stranger. "Make out with me."

The man arched a single eyebrow.

"Only if you want to, of course," Charles amended. "But you see that's my ex over there – two of them, actually – and I promise I'm usually more mature but tonight it happens to be very important that I prove I'm not wallowing because he broke up with me."

The man chanced a glance over his shoulder at Janos and grinned lazily. "Yeah, all right," he said. "I don't mind."

"Excellent," said Charles, and he grabbed the very obliging man by the front of his shirt and yanked him roughly down to meet his lips.

Two large hands cupped his face; a knee fit itself comfortably on the chair between his legs. Charles found himself suddenly being kissed within an inch of his life as the man easily took over the kiss with unrelenting, unhurried intent, coaxing his lips open (they needed very little coaxing) and gentling his (admittedly frenetic) attempts at tangling their tongues together. Slow, soft caresses melted his bones to goo, and he squirmed in his chair and clutched the man closer. He slid his hand up the man's chest, up his neck, up to tangle heatedly in his thick, tug-able hair.

Oh dear god he was going to burn up, he was going to vibrate right out of his skin. He was maybe going to pull this wonderful man up by the hips and offer to do something very inappropriate right there in the open for everyone to see.

"Um," Charles panted, pulling away. This proved no less distracting, as the man simply took the opportunity to nibble along his jaw and press open-mouthed kisses behind his ear and breathe heavily into his neck and generally make a very tempting nuisance of himself. There was a hand up Charles' shirt, rubbing dangerously close to his nipples, and he had no memory of how it had gotten there. It was possible the situation had gotten a little out of his control.

"What's your name?" the man whispered, nuzzling and tonguing at his ear.

"My name?" Charles said eloquently.

"Mm-hm."

"It's– my name– my name is–"

"Charles?"

"Yes, that's it." Then he recognized that last voice. "Janos?"

Janos stared down at him. He had the oddest expression on his face, like he couldn't quite decide among laughing or yelling or turning and walking away. Emma had no such confusion, and she watched the scene with unreserved amusement.

"I think your taxi is here," Janos said at last, pointing to the bright yellow van that had just pulled up alongside them. Of course. Who else would have called for a wheelchair-accessible cab?

"Right," Charles said weakly. "Thank you?" Feeling rather ashamed at himself now, he attempted to subtly nudge away the stranger he'd just gotten very familiar with, but the man seemed quite content where he was, stroking his neck idly and mouthing at his the tips of his hair. Right then.

"Have…a good night?" Janos offered.

"He likes it when you bite around his nipples," Emma told the stranger helpfully.

"Emma!"

"Sweetheart, you're the one who almost got to third base in front of Azazel's house. No need to sound so outraged."

"We're going now," Janos said loudly, as the stranger's fingers began playing around Charles' mouth, glossing along his lips and dipping shallowly within. "Bye! Don't get arrested!" He left rapidly towards the house, tugging a smirking Emma behind him.

"Not to be presumptuous," the stranger murmured against his neck, "but I have excellent teeth for biting."

"I'd noticed," Charles said in a strangled voice. He felt the man smile against his skin.

"I'd love to show you what I can do with them."

His voice of reason – his dissertation's champion – put up a valiant fight but was ultimately beaten down by his libido. One night wouldn't hurt, he decided. For sanity's sake. And maybe he could convince the man to join him for coffee in three weeks, and they'd see where things led.

"There's room in my cab, if you'd like to join me. I've been told I'm a very good hipbone petter."

"Then what are we waiting for?" The man climbed off of his chair and grinned down at him. "I'm Erik, by the way. Nice to meet you, Charles."

Charles laughed. "The pleasure is all mine."


End file.
